


The Letters of Lord Voldemort

by DrSallySparrow, olivieblake



Series: Epistles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Poetry, Bromance, Brotp, Epic Bromance, Epistles 2.0, Epistolary, F/M, M/M, Salivie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSallySparrow/pseuds/DrSallySparrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivieblake/pseuds/olivieblake
Summary: The Dark Lord attempts to wrangle the inimitable twat brigade (also known as the Death Eaters) via letter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (olivieblake)

_July 1, 1978_

Bellatrix,

Thank you for the severed toes, that was a lovely gesture, though as you know - or should recall, as I’ve only said it about THIRTY THOUSAND TIMES - I hardly have the closet space for it, so I’ve sent Wormtail off with them. Nice jar, though. Your taste is impeccable, as ever.

As I mentioned this morning I am once again embarking on a mission of PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE and cannot be bothered, so as much as I am tickled by your affectionate howlers, I must demand that you cease and desist INSTANTLY IF NOT SOONER. 

I mean it. Bella. Listen closely. Are you listening? There is NO SUBTEXT TO BE READ: do not contact me. Are we clear? I must be emphatic about this. I AM QUITE BUSY.

LV

 

* * *

 

_July 1, 1978_

Lucius,

Oh, I am _ever_ so sorry, I must have forgotten to send you a PERSONALIZED INVITATION TO ARRIVE ON TIME TO OUR MEETING THIS MORNING. Silly me, I thought for a moment you could be relied upon to understand the value of my time; I was confused, you see, because you think so highly of yourself that I must have thought - QUITE INCORRECTLY, I MIGHT ADD - that you were, in fact, MERITING THE CAPACITY TO BE ENTRUSTED WITH SIMPLE TASKS, SUCH AS NOT UPSETTING ME BEFORE I’VE EVEN HAD BREAKFAST.

FIVE MINUTES, LUCIUS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT LORD VOLDEMORT CAN ACCOMPLISH IN FIVE MINUTES WHILST HE IS NOT WAITING FOR YOU? 

Your incompetence CONTINUES TO BE UNFATHOMABLE and I simply will not tolerate another episode of the insanity that is your inconsideration. That being said, be ready to accompany me early tomorrow morning, and please, for the love of Salazar’s bollocks, LEAVE YOUR FUCKERY AT HOME.

LV

 

* * *

 

_July 1, 1978_

AVERY, IF I HAVE SAID IT ONCE, I HAVE SAID IT A THOUSAND FUCKING TIMES, DO NOT COME TO ME WITH THIS SHIT, I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR INCESSANT WHINING. 

Does nobody listen to me? Am I dead? Have I died? AM I A GHOST?

LV

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

_July 1, 1978_

My Lord,

What a pleasure, as always, to receive a missive from you, and a thousand apologies for my tardiness this morning. ~~You didn’t have to be such a little bitch about it but~~ I live to serve, as well you know, since I let you burn your ~~little art project~~ mark into my fucking forearm.

Might I be so bold as to ask, my Lord, who among your followers you think might be capable of taking my place at your right hand? Bella, perhaps, or maybe Rowle? Am I truly so incompetent, my Lord, that you would willingly submit yourself to that?

I didn’t have you down as a masochist, my Lord, but as we both know I am thoroughly useless and often wrong.

In a delightful development it would seem that since you have forbidden Bella to write to you she has decided that I shall be her correspondent of choice. To be entirely frank my Lord, if I wanted to have to deal with Bella twatting around then I would have married her, not Narcissa.

But apparently I’m not the utter fool you seem to think I am.

I will see you tomorrow morning, my Lord. Bright and early.

LM

 

* * *

 

LUUUUUUUUCIUS.

LUUUUUUUUUUCIUS, BROTHER MINE.

I KNOW THAT YOU ARE WITH OUR LORD LUCIUS.

Tell him Lucius, tell the Dark Lord how I want him, how I long for his return.

Tell him there are always more toes should he change his mind, Lucius. Tell him I am TOETALLY at his service.

Did you get it, Lucius? TOETALLY.

DID OUR LORD LAUGH AT THAT LUCIUS? DID JOY FLAME IN HIS EYES?

oH THAT I WERE THERE WITH YOU!!

What light is light, Lucius, if the Dark Lord be not seen? What joy is there in the scrEAMING OF THE INNOCENT IF THE DARK LORD IS NOT HERE TO HEAR IT?

Tell him, Lucius. I’ll know if you don’t.

B xxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

I’m sorry about Avery, my Lord. He means well.

Your letter did put him in something of a panic, though, so might I take the liberty of assuring him that his murder is not, in fact, imminent? 

He is rather useful, my Lord, unlike fucking Rowle.

Yours, 

Darian Mulciber

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

What’s that, Lucius? What did you say? I’m so sorry Lucius, truly, but you’ll have to speak up, as I CANNOT HEAR YOU OVER THE VOLUME OF YOUR FUCKERY. I, Lord Voldemort -  EMPHASIS ON LORD, WHICH WE ALL AGREED WAS FITTING - am perfectly aware that out of all the twat waffles in this unending abominable twat parade, you are unquestionably the most qualified, so it is with STAGGERING DISPLEASURE that I continue to look to you as my second in command, though DO NOT TELL BELLA. I SWEAR TO FUCKING SALAZAR, DO NOT. We would all suffer that error, I ASSURE YOU, ME WORST OF ALL.

My unrelenting disappointment aside, I’m going to need you to prepare for an additional day or two for our convoy to the Pyrenees and of course, as always, I must insist you not ask questions or make any requests or BREATHE A WORD OF DISCONTENT. Simple instructions, as always. Giants are hardly what I would call subtle, best to leave things in my -

HAVE YOU TOLD BELLA WHERE WE ARE? DAMNIT LUCIUS, HAVE I WASTED THE MANY WORDS OF PRAISE AND AFFECTION WITH WHICH I OPENED THIS LETTER? DO YOU TAKE SOME KIND OF PLEASURE IN CONSTANTLY PLAGUING ME WITH YOUR INANITY? SOMEDAY LUCIUS I SWEAR I WILL JUST LOOK THE OTHER WAY WHILE THESE MUGGLE-LOVING FUCKS CART YOU OFF TO AZKABAN.

Excuse me while I now combat the EXPLOSION OF INSANITY YOU HAVE BROUGHT UPON MY HEAD, you WITLESS FUCK.

LV

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

I do not know how to put this gently SO I SHAN’T. I AM QUITE BUSY. THREE HOWLERS IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.

Don’t bother Lucius anymore either. Or do. I give ZERO FUCKS, do as you please, SO LONG AS I CAN BREATHE UNHINDERED BY YOUR CRUSHING INSTABILITY.

Now that the unpleasantness is out of the way I must say, cheers to you, spectacularly phrased. _Toetally._ You know how Lord Voldemort delights in wordplay.

LV

 

* * *

 

Mulciber,

You know what I love, Mulciber? You know what I just _adore_ , what I just _bask_ in? What I roll around in, like a suntanned virgin in a meadow? I _love_ that I can be the greatest wizard who ever lived - no, really, I just _relish_ that I, the only wizard to have discovered the secrets to living forever, who has managed to escape the ominous, pitiless tentacles of death, CAN STILL BE SO INCONGRUOUSLY UNDERESTIMATED BY EVERYONE AROUND ME.

LORD VOLDEMORT KNOWS, MULCIBER, IN HIS UNFAILING OMNISCIENCE, THAT ROWLE IS A FUCKING SHITSTICK, AND THAT AVERY, A WHINY BITCH, IS EVER SO SLIGHTLY PREFERABLE.

He can live BUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE, MULCIBER, TELL HIM TO GET HIS SHIT TOGETHER.

LV

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

That must have been one of the meetings to which I didn’t receive my personalised invitation, my Lord, because I don’t recall ever being consulted on your choice of ~~self-congratulatory~~ ennoblement. Also, forgive me if I’m wrong but wasn’t the whole thing an anagram? I do remember _quite distinctly_ you being ever so pleased with your own cleverness.

As always, my Lord, you seem to overestimate my desire to be buggered about by my sister-in-law. I have not told her of our whereabouts, nor do I intend to point out to her that I am vastly superior in my capacity to serve as your second-in-command. I like all of my digits where they are, i.e. not lopped off and presented to you in one of my mother-in-law’s crystal vases.

Since I am, as you so kindly point out, twat-waffle-in-chief might I ask, my Lord, whether you would deem it appropriate for me to open parleys with the Euskadi Goblin community, since we will be in the area anyway? I figure that we might as well try to make some actual progress given that that we are, for once, not surrounded by blithering idiots.

Excluding myself of course, since, as you never fail to remind me, I am the most blithering idiot ever to blither.

Yours,

LM

 

* * *

 

MY LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD

You are playing hard to get, my Lord, and you know how it entices me, how it THRILLS ME TO MY CORE.

FOR YOU I WOULD PLAY WITH ALL MY WORDS. I WOULD MINCE THEM AND DICE THEM AND CHOP THEM INTO ITTY BITTY LITTLE PIECES AND SPRINKLE THEM ON YOUR MORNING WEETABIX.

I apologise My Lord. FORGIVE MEEEEEEEE. I started out talking about words and ended up back on toes.

WHYYYYYYYYY did you take Lucius with you and not me MY LOOOOOOOOOOOORD? Have you forgotten perhaps that I am your MOST FAITHFUL SERVANT?

HAS LUCIUS EVER SENT YOU A LOCK OF HIS HAIR, MY LORD?

HAS HE EVER SENT YOU ONE OF HIS TEETH?

HAS HE EVER PAINTED YOU A NUDE SELF-PORTRAIT USING THE BLOOD OF TINY ANIMALS?

I didn’t think so.

Hurry home, My Lord. I am waiting for you.

B xxxxxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

I do hope that this finds you in the best of health, and that your top-secret mission (about which I definitely 100% know nothing and have been told nothing by anyone especially not Lucius) progresses apace.

I was just wondering, my Lord, out of completely idle curiosity, whether you would be home soon? Only cousin Bella has hexed me fourteen times already today and it isn’t even lunchtime yet.

I know that you hate to be bothered with things like this my Lord but I’m trying to get ahead on my NEWT studies so that you can have – how was it you put it?  oh yes - “Perhaps a single servant who isn’t less use than a chocolate cauldron,” and it’s really very difficult to concentrate on advanced Transfiguration when your knees are back-to-front.

Anyway, all best.

Regulus

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

How are you feeling, dear Lucius? Are you well? Are you in good health? I hope you are not too terribly burdened with illness, as you seem to have come down with a case of such INCURABLE FUCKERY that even I, Lord Voldemort, who has CONQUERED DEATH, seem to be unable to vanquish it. TROUBADOURS COULD WRITE SONGS ABOUT IT, LUCIUS. POETS WOULD NEVER SUFFER LACK OF INSPIRATION, LUCIUS, SO LONG AS THEY COULD DEVOTE ODES TO YOUR FUCKERY.

Breezing idly by the many ways in which you disappoint me, your failures as a man, your imbecilic twatting, etc, I would encourage you to take FIRM GRASP of the first decent idea you have had in MORE MOONS THAT I CAN COUNT and proceed to approach the goblins, who I imagine will be THRILLED TO SEE YOU, LUCIUS.

THINK OF THE HAIR TIPS YOU CAN SWAP, LUCIUS. THE NOTES YOU CAN SHARE ON HOW TO REMAIN INHUMANLY PALE.

I AM BREATHLESS AT THE THOUGHT.

LV

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

There are times I think to myself - _what does Lord Voldemort wish more than anything? What does he lust after? What does he crave?_

Do you know, Bella? Do you know the answer to this riddle?

“Is it power, My Lord?” you may ask. “Is it everlasting life?”

Yes to all, certainly - but sometimes, it is true, in his darker moments, wherein he is bound by his more meager ambitions and plagued by low spirits, what Lord Voldemort wishes most - _what he thirsts for most fervently_ \- is your SUDDEN AND PERMANENT DISAPPEARANCE.

_**AND YET HERE WE ARE.** _

I AM VERY BUSY, BELLA, GO AWAY.

Though as you mention it, I do adore that painting. It is so light-hearted, so whimsical in its carnality. I have it hung in my bathroom, over my vanity.

LV

 

* * *

 

Regulus,

Regulus, is it? You’re new here, I see; and I also note VERY CASUALLY that not a single member of my inimitable twat brigade has bothered to properly educate you on the foundational principle of our group, which is to say: that LORD VOLDEMORT IS NOT HERE TO SEE TO YOUR WHIMS. I can see how that might be confusing, as I am indeed such a soothing paternal figure whose mercy truly knows no limits, so let me present you with a brief guide which I expect you to memorize, and to live by; that is, so long as you wish to CONTINUE TO LIVE.

Things that merit direct communication with Lord Voldemort:  
\- the requests, needs, fancies, desires, and musings of Lord Voldemort.

Things that **_do not_** merit direct communication with Lord Voldemort:  
\- WHETHER YOU ARE OR ARE NOT BEING HEXED

THERE WILL BE AN EXAM UPON MY RETURN. I ADVISE YOU TO STUDY.

LV

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

Quite the contrary, my Lord, in fact your letter finds me in rare spirits. Goblin spirits, in point of fact.

They’ve built a rather remarkable still in the caves down here. An ingenious feat of engineering. Perhaps troubadours could write songs about that. Actually I think Old Occitan is quite closely related to Gobbledegook, although I’ll have to ask Girax. Just – don’t move, my Lord – I’m just checking –

Would you believe it, my Lord, Girax says that the etymology is similar. I imagine these poets of yours would find plenty of inspiration in this quite delightful alcohol that the Goblins are producing. Apparently there isn’t a name for it that’s pronounceable by the human tongue.

Not even a troubadour’s tongue. Isn’t that fascinating my Lord?  
  
Funnily enough the Goblins do actually have a lovely terrace built into the mountainside, and I think I’m getting something of a tan. Girax and Kayqz (I don’t actually know if that’s how you spell it but it sounds like ‘cakes’ and they seem to string consonants together like Bellatrix making tooth-necklaces) say if you would like to come and join us for a glass of gobbledy-spirits they would be most receptive to what you have to say.

Who’s an incurable fuck _now_ , eh?

Yours ever,

LM

 

* * *

 

OOOOOOOHHHHHHH MYYYYYYY LOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRD

Speak cruel Love! What is’t thou does intend? Oh! Tell me, have thy Tyrannies no end?

NO END MY LORD!! LET YOUR TYRANNIES BE AS ETERNAL AS YOUR LORDSHIP.

But really My Lord, why must you tease me so? Tell me to go away and leave you alone? I know you want me, oh _yes_ My Lord, I remember all the things that you have ever whispered in my shell-like earsies…and I know that you remember what I said back.

The things that I promised I would do, for you, My Lordy-lou…Are you sure you want me to go away? Hmm?

I’m glad you liked the painting actually, I felt that it was quite an exciting foray into Bacon-esque grotesque abstraction. You know, bold. Bloody.

Although I must say I didn’t think anything could surmount your vanity.

Much love, B xxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

As the man left holding the reins of the ~~inimitable twat brigade~~ Death Eaters while you and Lucius go gallivanting off across Europe, can I please, _please_ ask that you try not to scare everyone shitless from afar?

Was it really necessary to send that Regulus kid a fucking howler? I know he’s a little wet behind the ears, but really - I thought we spoke about this? “A new era of approachability,” you said. “Hands-on leadership,” you said.

You can’t just issue death threats willy-nilly when you’re trying to foster a more welcoming working environment, you’re going to undermine all your efforts.

I do, however, like the exam idea, so I am designing entrance criteria for the next round of recruits. Should be amusing, watching them all _Crucio_ one another.

Cordially,

Felix Travers

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

GO HOME, LUCIUS

YOU’RE DRUNK

LV

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

In a world as volatile as this, it is an ever refreshing pleasure to find that some things remain constant; most notably, of course, the innumerable ways in which I AM SURROUNDED BY SUCH GLORIOUS IDIOCY THAT SALAZAR HIMSELF BEMOANS IT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE, and the many instances per day that I desire to locate a time turner and drastically improve it so as to pay a visit to your father and ultimately rid him of him of the IRREPARABLE SHAME that his perverse endeavors will bring - by which, of course, I am referring to his cock, and, in the delightfully artistic abstract, to YOUR SUBSEQUENT BIRTH. 

I’M SAYING I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN, BELLA. I HOPE THE IMMENSITY OF THAT MENTAL LEAP DID NOT DIZZY YOU. DO YOU REMAIN UPRIGHT, BELLA? DID LORD VOLDEMORT’S STUNNING ABSTRACTION WEAKEN YOU ABOUT THE KNEES?

As I was saying - your devotion both impresses and exhausts me, AS EVER, but I haven’t the time to delve. Your twat of a brother-in-law has gone and got himself pissed with a grotesquely kindred subspecies (REVOLTING COMPARISON, I KNOW, BUT SO APT) that I had hoped to lure with my EFFORTLESS CHARM by proxy. Instead, it seems, I shall have to make an ENTIRELY UNDESIRED APPEARANCE in order to toss him over my shoulder LIKE THE WASTEBASKET OF A HUMAN BEING THAT HE IS so that we may resume our passage to -

DAMN IT BELLA you nearly foiled me, you detestably clever minx. You and your games …

LV

 

* * *

 

 ~~His Eminence Lord Travers,~~   _oh wait you fuck, Lord Voldemort is suddenly recalling in his UNFAILING WISDOM that only one such Lord exists, and delights in his peerlessness - let us see if I can get it right this time -_

Fucking Travers,

I, Lord Voldemort, must relay my congratulations to you for your excellence in your position, as surely you know as well as I that you would not _dare_  reproach me unless you yourself were entirely without fault; and so I must offer you my sincerest gratitude, knowing that - OH, WAIT, FUCK ME, EVERYTHING’S A MESS, MY DEATH EATERS ARE WHINY TWAT HOUNDS, YOU’RE A BOLLOCKY SACK OF WANKS

LV

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

You must understand, my Lord, that diplomacy takes many forms, and some of them are liquid. Perhaps I am misremembering, but did you or did you not tell me to (and I quote) “Not fucking dare show your pathetically pasty face around here again until you have brought me an alliance with those FUCKING STUNTED FOOLS”?

Did I fail you in my mission, my Lord? Did you arrive at the Hordequarters to anything less than a fawning welcome? May I _remind you_ that I delivered your _precious agreement_ , my Lord? 

Who had to promise the dastardly creatures the return of a number of near-priceless family heirlooms in exchange? ~~NOT LORD FUCKING VOLDEMORT, THAT’S FOR SURE.~~ Oh yes, that would be me.

And, lest we forget, _just who_  ended up being carried home my Lord, hmm? 

You’re very welcome, of course. My pleasure lives and dies in your service. As does my back. ~~Maybe you should lay off the Cauldron Cakes?~~

Yours,

LM

 

* * *

 

MY LOOOOOOORD!

Tease me, My Lord. TEASE ME WITH YOUR TEASING WAYS. Know, My Lord, that I am always weak about the knees. That I am always QUIVERING AT THE THOUGHT OF WHAT DELICIOUS PUNISHMENTS YOU MIGHT DEVISE FOR ME.

You and Lucius have been comporting with  _Goblins_ , is it? You are so delightfully funny My Lord, he truly is troglodytically pale. Be sure to put a sunscreen charm on him, my lovely Lordly love. Skin like that doesn’t do well in Mediterranean climes.

Oh I have been _so bad_ , My Lord. SO VERY, VERY BAD, and I am DIZZY at the thought of how you will make me pay.

SEE YOU SOON.

B xxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

I know that you and my wife are great…friends, and I wondered if you knew where she had disappeared off to?

Only, I haven’t seen her for a couple of days. And that usually means that she’s…er… _comporting_  with yourself. Begging your pardon my Lord but it makes me a little uneasy when I don’t know where she is. 

You’ll remember, of course, the “jumping-out-of-cupboards-and-hexing-the-unsuspecting” phase? Rabastan’s getting twitchy every time he walks past the coat closet.

Do let me know, won’t you.

All the best,

Rodolphus Lestrange

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

BELLA

WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING

I BEG YOU

DO NOT

LV

 

* * *

 

Lucius,

As you know - or if you do not, a moment of silence for recollection, as it would PAIN ME INDEFINITELY were you to forget - you have disappointed me to unspeakable magnitudes in the past.

Normally I would end there, but on this dire day, there is more. I SHUDDER, LUCIUS. I SHUDDER TO THINK.

I am willing to graciously overlook your innumerable faults if you can manage JUST THIS ONCE to follow my very careful and thoroughly detailed instructions. In the past I have mentioned a clearing in the outskirts of that place I sometimes go. I need you to arm yourself with some explosives, disappear without a trace, and bring the things I sometimes need to the place I sometimes vanish inexplicably AND IF YOU FAIL ME LUCIUS, SO HELP ME -

I won’t even threaten you. The consequences of your failures would be far worse than any I could invent - even in the DEEPEST REACHES of my FOULEST CREATIVITY I could not DREAM OF A WORSE FATE.

BELLA IS COMING LUCIUS FOR THE LOVE OF SALAZAR WE MUST HIDE

LV

 

* * *

 

Rodolphus,

Surely you did not mean to imply anything untoward regarding the innocence - nay, the _purity_ ; the _UTTER SANCTITY_ \- of my camaraderie with your wife, which as you know consists EXCLUSIVELY of hair-braiding and bird-watching and only the most minute, slimmest chance of -

Oh fuck you Rodolphus, Lord Voldemort tried - HE TRIED - but the effort has left him STAGGERING with exhaustion. FIND YOUR WIFE. THIS IS WHY SHE WAS ENTRUSTED TO YOU, so that she would not be UNLEASHED UPON THE WORLD WITHOUT WARNING.

RODOLPHUS YOU TWAT-FLAVORED WANKSICLE

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

LV

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

What a master of verbal obfuscation you are, My Lord. 

Clearly you have decided that the time has come for double-speak, for when you write ‘careful and thoroughly detailed’ it is obvious to me that you meant quite the opposite and intended to outfox any ~~crazed bitches~~ ~~spurned lovers~~ _persons_ who might happen to have a vested interest in intercepting your correspondence.

Fortunately, mired in the depths of my unutterable uselessness is a well of subtlety and observation which leaves me uniquely well-equipped to understand your more daring flights of fancy. I have gathered all the nastiest combustibles I could lay my hands on, and will meet you shortly in that place that I’m not supposed to know about. The one where you go when - 

Actually, I’ll stop there, because I prefer my face when you haven’t tried to hex it off.

Yours,

LM

PS: That’s where you meant, right?

 

* * *

 

MYYYYYY LOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRDDD,

ThUnDeRbOlTs AnD LiGhTnInG VEEEERRRRY VEEEEERY fRiGhTeNiiiiiiiiiiiiiNg-

NASTY THIEVING MUGGLES TAKING MY LYRICS NASTY NASTY 

Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaa just killed a man! PUT MY WAND AGAINST HIS HEAD, SAID AVADA NOW HE’S DEAD. And he’s dead! And he is! And him as well! NEEDS MUST.

GOODBYE, DARLING RODDY, I HAVE TO GO! Got to leave England behind and FIND MY LORD.

I’m coming, my Lord. Tell Lucius that Bellatrix has a whole world of devilry put aside for him.

And you…YOU MY LORD. So you think you can STONE me and SPIT IN MY EYE?

DO IT AGAIN MY LORD, I BEG YOU. 

Bellatrix begs you, on her kneeses. Always on my knees for you My Lord. Such a convenient height, no?

Can’t wait to catch up. 

Much love, B xxxxxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

Fuck me she makes a mess doesn’t she? 

I’ve got four dead muggles in Dover, two French customs officers cursed out of their pathetic little minds, and a whole fucking heap of paperwork. 

It’s not that I want to complain, my Lord, and obviously the only good muggle is a dead muggle, but Travers is forcing us to fill out forms for _every fucking thing_  these days in this new drive for “transparent deviousness” whatever the fuck that is and really my Lord why did that silly bitch have go via muggle ports?

It’s like she just chooses the course of action that’s going to result in the most -

Oh. 

 _Fucking Bellatrix_. 

Your servant,

Corban Yaxley

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius, 

There is simply no time to be wasted on your foolhardy compliments, I require no commendations for my mastery - obfuscation or otherwise - when my sanity and my genitals are in such a vulnerable state. You must come immediately. I could not have been more clear regarding the details. 

LV

 

* * *

 

Lucius,

Where are you? Have you died or something?

LV

 

* * *

 

LUCIUS,

HAVE YOU NEVER MET HER, LUCIUS? DO YOU HAVE NO CONCEPT OF THE URGENCY REQUIRED WHEN MATTERS OF BELLATRIX ARE AT STAKE?

LV

 

* * *

 

LUCIUS 

you are DEAD

LV

 

* * *

 

Yaxley,

Under normal circumstances, Lord Voldemort would take this opportunity to remind you that the BURDENS OF YOUR OCCUPATION as his _unquestionably_ _loyal follower_ include being SILENTLY TASKED without the SCROLLS OF UNBEARABLE FUCKERY that you subject him to at such a BREATHTAKINGLY INFALLIBLE CONSTANT.

However Bella is here and she read your note - I did try _ever so hard_ to hide it from her but sadly for all I was so exhausted by the mere thought of summoning the necessary effort to actually act on your behalf that out of nowhere, I DIDN’T - so I think I am the least of your worries.

Oh, and excellent news about the muggles.

LV

 

* * *

 

Rodolphus,

I have located your wife and we are en route to your home. I sincerely hope, in my INFINITE MERCY - truly, am I not indulgent? _Is your Lord not uncommonly generous?_ \- that you can be trusted not to commit the same GRAVE ERROR carrying in perpetuity.

LV

PS - I’m going to crucio the shit out of you though lol JUST SAYING

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

I apologise for the delay in writing, My Lord, but as you know the Siberian tundra is so very diverting at this time of year and that _really is_ where I thought you wanted me to find you.

I have no one but myself to blame, My Lord, for the grievous oversight, but honestly your boltholes are so many and varied, and I learned long ago never to underestimate you. Is it truly my fault if I do not possess your mental acuity, My Lord? If I merely thought that you would wish to flee to the farthest and most inaccessible of your refuges in order to avoid darling Bella?

Pity me, My Lord, for I am but a simple fool.

Surely you will agree, however, that to have been denied the opportunity to spend any quality time with you and Bella before you managed to pack her back off to dear Rodolphus is quite punishment enough. Thoros tells me that you were rather, ah, _emphatic_ in your reminders about vigilance regarding her living arrangements.

Still, at least you have some more toes to add to your collection.

I’ll see you when I’m back, shall I?

Yours ever, 

LM

PS: interesting conversation with one the local shamans yesterday - remind me to talk to you about it.

 

* * *

 

MY LORDY LOVELY LORDYKINS,

Why must you always send me away, My Lord? I was so enjoying our game of ‘hide the serpent in the not-so-innocent flower.’ And I really did think that after I did the thing (you know the one) and the other thing (yes that one) and then the final thing (which I’m sure you will agree was quite the feat of contortionism and stamina) that you might let me do more things, My Lord.

You know how imaginative I am, My Lord.

Roddy is SO BORING THOUGH MY LORD I CANNOT EVEN EXPRESS IT. Truly, there is no word for how boring he is. Hobbling around and whingeing about his toes. TWO TOES. What sort of a man mourns the loss of two toes to the Dark Lord? And don’t even get me started on Rabastan. Twitchy as all fuck, which is ridiculous considering that I’ve only cursed him three times since I was dragged back to this miserable manor WHERE YOU ARE NOT.

OH MY LOOOOOOOOORRRRRRD. When will I see you again? When will we share precious TORTURING OF MUGGLE SCUM AND MUDBLOOD FILTH?

This is the sort of love that burns down cities, My Lord.

And Manor Houses.

Just saying.

Come soooooooooooooon I miss youuuuuuuuuu ok byebye now Bxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

Loving your work, My Lord, really you’ve just got such a flair for this whole murder vibe, it’s absolutely _The_ _Thing_ in dark magic circles this season - everyone’s talking about you!

Seriously though I was at the Unicorn Club last week and one of the Burke witches was telling everyone how you took Bella on some European mini-break and you scourged your way through like five Muggle villages and left no survivors and everyone was like, “Shut UP that is too amazing” and she was like “no it’s true,” and then we all just DIED. Like, I’m serious. Dead.

But so, like, ok, for these new Death Eater Robes I was thinking something that’s like “Ooh somber” but also a little bit “here to get fuuuucked uuuuuup.” And I was like talking to Alecto and she was like, “Oh my Salazar Amycus, you are so right you should totally do that,” and so I was like “Oh my Salazar Alecto, I totally know, right?”

So what I’m going to do is BLACK. VELVET. CLOAKS. With a GREEN. SILK. LINING.

And the best bit, oh my SALAZAAAAAR, wait for it, My Lord, I mean you are just going to err….well, not _die_ , but you know. Anyway, you’re going to love it:

PERSONALISED SILVER MASKS.

I KNOW. I’m like, literally dead. RIP me. Prepare my funeral.

Ugh, you’re so amazing.

Amycus Carrow

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

Let me begin by addressing the positive points in your message, for let no one deny that Lord Voldemort is an incurable optimist. It is true, for example, that you, a _self-proclaimed simpleton_ , can scarcely begin to understand the labyrinthine treasure of riches that is my mind. It is _also_ true that I, in my envious complexity, possess such ASTOUNDING MULTITUDES that you, in your HUMBLE IDIOCY, could not possibly have imagined them.

Take this is an apology, Lucius - not to you, of course, for what would that get me? But rather, from myself to myself - that I ever STOOPED SO LOW as to imagine YOU, BATON TWIRLER OF ASININITY THAT YOU ARE, could ever have managed to piece together even the simplest of instructions. Apologies - again, NOT TO YOU, no apologies for you - for my grievous oversight. 

IT SHAN’T BE REPEATED.

All that aside - please, Lucius, tell me, what did the fucking shamans say? Spit it out, Lucius, before I DIE, CHOKING IN AGONY on the BITTER TOXICITY of your UNENVIABLE DERELICTIONS AS A MAN.

LV

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

Obviously my post-coital obliviations are starting to addle you more than usual; that ‘game’ you so unsubtly reference - and which you must NEVER DISCUSS OPENLY AGAIN until I require it which may be soon BUT UNTIL THEN, NEVER - is meant to be safely tucked away into the confines of your subconscious. I sigh with despondency at discovering that your gaping lunacy has engulfed even the vast stretches of my inconceivable talents.

I suppose it _is_ within my capacity to reward you for your ‘contortionism and stamina,’ as you so rightly say. Perhaps Rodolphus would be a willing subject for one of our other favorite games? 

By which I mean the Cruciatus Curse, of course. You know this.

Rabastan, too, if you so desire; for let no one say Lord Voldemort is not indulgent indeed in his affections!

Keep yourself busy, Bella, lest you forget that I require PRIMARILY for you to REMAIN DISTANTLY AT BAY until I summon you of course WHICH WILL NOT BE SOON but even so, be vigilant BUT ALSO FAR AWAY.

LV

 

* * *

 

Amycus,

As you know, Lord Voldemort - in what I am sure you will agree is his infinite and unwavering temperance - rarely requests favors of his Death Eaters; but in a case as dire as this, I shall have to ask you - nay, not _ask_ , but BEG, Amycus - to MAKE GOOD ON YOUR PROMISE AND SIMPLY _DIE_ , you IMBECILIC SENESCHAL OF TWATTERY.

That aside; silver masks, you say? Tasteful. Though, do contain your horrid tendency towards fussiness. You know how Lord Voldemort abhors ostentation.

LV

P.S. be absolutely certain that the green silk lining accents my eyes or there will be HELL TO PAY, AMYCUS. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

~~_I told you about the baton twirling in confidence you fuck that’s below the fucking belt how dare -_ ~~

Apologies for my silence, My Lord. It took me some time to digest your last letter. As ever, your generosity and willingness to tolerate my failings (which are, as you never hesitate to remind me, innumerable) leave me almost speechless and I must admit to being most grateful that you have saved me the trouble of prostrating myself before you in apology by choosing instead to engage in this written cycle of autoerotic contrition.

Truly, sometimes I wonder why you even deign to bless me with your correspondence when it seems you can achieve such an immeasurable degree of satisfaction simply by penning missives to yourself.

As for my derelictions as a man, my wife is not complaining, My Lord, though of course we can’t all be so singularly ~~deviant~~ _gifted_ as to drive witches across the border between sanity and utter lunacy. Might I recommend that if you _do_ find yourself choking as a result of my manhood, bitterly toxic as it apparently is, you avail yourself of Bella’s advice as to how to suppress your gag reflex? The ladies of the House of Black are, in my admittedly limited experience, rather proficient in that area.

But to business, and the Shamans. There was a lot of prattle about chicken bones and bat entrails (and a sealskin coat that honestly smelled worse than a two-month-old inferus) but the upshot seemed to be that they would be supportive of your efforts to depose the Minister and deal with Dumbledore once and for all. My Russian isn’t perfect, but I’m fairly sure that he called the old fool a “son of a cunting whore” so there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of love lost there.

Anyway, they’re sending an emissary called Dolotrov or Molotov or something to swell the ranks of the _~~inimitable twat brigade~~ _ Death Eaters so that should give us all something to look forward to.

Ever your faithful servant, 

LM

 

* * *

 

MY LORD

Funny, My Lord, I don’t remember you obliviating me.

AHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHA. HA.

OH HOW YOU TOY WITH ME MY LORD. How can you promise me that we will play and then leave me here with only my fucking husband and his FOOL of a brother for company?

I HAVE TRIED TO FIND DIVERSIONS MY LORD but Crucio’ing Rabastan just isn’t the same without you here to laugh at his idiot face. I couldn’t even be bothered to do Rodolphus THAT IS HOW VERY DESPONDENT AND UTTERLY BEREFT YOU HAVE LEFT ME.

Abandoned, My Lord. Marooned in the ocean of pain that is my longing for you. 

Don’t you miss me, My Lord? Just a teensy weensy bit? FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS DASTARDLY SEND FOR ME SOON BEFORE I DO SOMETHING YOU WILL REGRET.

Note that I said YOU will regret. Note it, My Lord, I am not kidding. NOT JOKING. HAAHAHHAHAHAAHAHA. 

I am serious. 

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Your Bellakins xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My very excellent Lord Voldemort,

What unexpected delightfulness to be found in your country of green and pleasant lands and brightness of daylight and beauty of Manors such as Malfoy where I am here to be a guest at the hands of generous and charming servants of yourself such eminent and respected fellow of great power and visions.

I am coming to you with firstly intention of faithful service and secondly to kill fucking pigdog Dumbledore and all little bitch motherfucker phoenix sons of whores. Yes? 

With gracious thanks,

Antonin Dolohov

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

It appears that you have woken with some kind of ill-conceived desire to be mercilessly hexed for your insolence, unless I am greatly mistaken - WHICH, TO BE CLEAR, I AM NOT. Lucius, so help me, if you ever copulate I WILL USE YOUR SON AS A HUMAN DISHTOWEL, I SWEAR TO -

My temper appears to have escaped me this morning. Trying times, Lucius. Trying times, indeed. Where was I?

Ah yes, your derelictions as a man. Sadly for all I do not have the time to indulge in an appropriately detailed narrative of your innumerable afflictions - hmm, do I? No, Lord Voldemort, RESIST THE TEMPTATION - and so, moving ever forward to your report on the Shamans: excellent news. It is my understanding that Dumbledore in Russian actually translates directly to “duck-billed cocksicle” (DON’T LOOK IT UP LUCIUS, I AM RIGHT) so I am inclined to believe you are correct. I have heard from this Molotov person, as you say, and find him to be exceedingly charming. Chap really has a way with words. 

In any case - round up the inimitable twats, Lucius. We have havoc to wreak.

LV

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

While your unfailing humor truly does delight, I feel I must remind you of my BURDENSOME OCCUPATIONAL DEMANDS and insist that you not pursue deeds of any kind that would register as dastardly, despicable, rotten, contemptible, etc. AND DO NOT TOY WITH SEMANTICS, BELLA, THIS IS NOT A TIME FOR LIBERALITIES IN WORDPLAY. 

Perhaps, O Bendiest of Temptresses, you simply require a diversion in my absence? Lord Voldemort is not an unreasonable man, he would permit you your discretions. Have you been introduced to a certain eloquent Russian who has recently emerged from my cavalcade of buffoonery? He seems appropriately twisted; perhaps he can occupy you for a time.

As ever Bella DO NOT BOTHER ME unless I require your attention of course in which case you must drop everything and come immediately, you know this; and in all fairness I _have_ recently been reminded of certain tracheal advantages you possess so Thoughts Have Certainly Occurred but still, THE RULES HAVE NOT CHANGED. SPARE ME YOUR DRAMATICS unless I change my mind.

LV

 

* * *

 

Antonin,

Yes.

LV

p.s. unrelated, if a terrifying woman arrives at your door stay calm it is normal DO NOT MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS okay wonderful best of luck 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

A human dishtowel? If you say so, my Lord. After all, should I be blessed with an heir I am certain that he will be only too content to continue the family tradition of cleaning up your mess.

In answer to your other question, it must be said that though I never wake with the desire to be hexed mercilessly, Fate often seems to misinterpret my efforts to sail smoothly through my day as a beguilement to try me with vexation. And thus do I find myself beset with horrors such as, to choose a completely random example, _walking in on my sister-in-law taking lessons in the Russian tongue on MY DINING ROOM TABLE._

Apparently this was at your suggestion? Forgive me My Lord but that is _mahogany_ , and I find myself somewhat sceptical that even you are cruel enough to instruct Bellatrix to besmirch my furniture like this.

Anyway, she’s fucked off again now, thank heavens. Something about poems. I don’t know, My Lord, and frankly I don’t really care to.

I have instructed your fleet of fuckwits to assemble in Hogsmeade at sunset. After the day I’ve had I am very much up for a bit of light torture. Perhaps a soupçon of savagery. I hope that you will oblige?

Yours ever,

LM

 

* * *

 

MY LOOOOOOOORD,

I got bored of Dolohov, my Lord. He isn’t good for much beyond provoking Lucius, though he did tell me something interesting before I hexed him on his way. Apparently he was speaking to Rowle, you see, my Lord.

Thorfinn, you know the one.

Total cockhead buffoon.

Yes?

Only Dolohov said, my Lord (and I know this can’t possibly be true and must be to do with the language barrier) that you had read some of Rowle’s poems and expressed the opinion that they are "not pathetically awful.”

This struck me as odd, my Lord, since when I wrote you a poem you said that you didn’t care for poetry as a form. Frankly, I find the very idea that you might not enjoy my poems utterly ludicrous, so I wrote you another one. Look, here it is:

 _There was a young lady called Bella_  
Who got into bed with her fella  
She said FUCK ME PLEASE  
YOU INSUFFERABLE TEASE  
And he did so it was all fine and she didn’t have to MURDER ANYONE.

There. How’s that for some fucking poetry. You’d better get over here _right now_ or I swear I will curse your nose off.

Lots of love B xxxxxxxxxx

 

* * *

 

My Lord,

I just had a very odd note from Bellatrix my Lord. It just says “Fuck you, you cuntbungling arsewipe, stop thinking you’re fucking Byron.” 

My Lord, I don’t wish to cast any sort of aspersion against your critical faculties, but really I’m going for a much more free-form, Modernist vibe, you feel me? The Romantics are a bit, well, _over_. Just, you know. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression.

Anyway, my muse was with me so I wrote you something new actually, I hope you like it:

 _With the rising of this Lord and his Knights’ voices calling_  
We shall not cease from extermination  
And the end of all our exterminating  
Will be to arrive where we started  
And know that it is free of filthy muggles.

Good right? Totally original. All my own, non-adapted, non-plagiarised work that I wrote. Myself. Me. The poet. Thorfinn Rowle.

Best wishes,

Thorf

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

Just when I think to myself “oh just murder the pale snarking pile of shits, he obviously LONGS IRREPRESSIBLY for death” you do something to remind me why I, in my eternally unfailing omniscience, have been wise enough not to indulge my more impulsive (though invariably more savory) whims. Bravo, Lucius; bravo indeed. I wished for havoc and you, in A SURPRISING TWIST, delivered; and, indeed, it comforts the tatters of my LITERALLY DEATH-DEFYING ~~and ultimately flimsily severed~~ SOUL to bear witness to the resurrection (however brief) of the qualities you possess which initially lured me. A _Cruciatus_ from your wand has a certain poeticism (and, having been forcibly subjected to a seemingly unending stream of truly abominable poetry - that you mustn’t get me started on, Lucius, I HAVEN’T THE TIME - I’m unfortunately more aware of such matters than I have ever wished to be) to which only the gratifying screams of the innocent can truly compare.

However, Lucius, lest it slip my inimitable mind, let us revisit some notes for next time we pursue any sort of revelry akin to this:

\- murder; it was _good_ , but was it truly as proficiently executed as it could have been? Was it, as I fear, more spectacle than art??  
\- masks; v pro mask. Am thinking more masks (!! high priority). Theatrics could stand to see some improvement - though presumably masks will help.  
\- potentially too much arson? air quality v bad post-raid.  
\- blood-letting; gratuitous? Discuss.

Owl me back with thoughts, will be up late.

LV

 

* * *

 

Bella,

My hellish dove, my sanguinary pearl, my entropic swan of disorder; perhaps Lord Voldemort, overtasked though he may be (thus, in addition to a general unceasing faultlessness, rendering him ENTIRELY BLAMELESS IN ALL THINGS), has unfairly left you to your own unstable devices too long. 

Given my high spirits (and my spirit of generosity, which as you know is but one of many possible nickname for my penis; i.e., it bestows lavishly, albeit in spurts) I imagine I can reward us both by permitting you to pleasure me. Perhaps I can spare an hour or two for a game of Find the Engorged Serpent? Call upon the swelling of my powers to enter your Chamber of Secrets? A little Snake Handshake, maybe, or the Disappearing Basilisk?

Oh, and then — time permitting, of course — we might fuck.

LV

 

* * *

 

Thorfinn,

It is a fool indeed  
Who calls himself a poet  
That cannot first recognize  
Murder awaits  
Not for any unclever turn of a word  
But as a helpless inevitability  
For your ceaseless twatting  
Which knows no equal  
I beg you, desist  
Or rather - I would beg, would I ever deign  
But I would not  
Because tbh murder is easier

LV

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

So many months since I last wrote to you, my Lord. I do hope that your entirely voluntary ~~_and definitely not at all cowardly_~~ retreat to the Tuscan hills has been edifying. I’m sure you’ve been schmoozing the locals? Persuading them to the cause? Splendid. Marvellous. You’re an example to us all.

Such a shame that I, unlike you, was left without the option of ~~_flight_~~  tactical withdrawal when the Ministry caught Gibbon (that twat-faced baboon). No, much to my chagrin I have been forced to remain and endure an endless round of investigations of my manor by so-say ‘Aurors’ who are clearly spies for the Order of Cockadoodlecunts or whatever it is Dumbledore’s minions are calling themselves these days (who does that man think he is, the fucking Pope?)

Fear not, however, my Lord. My days have not been wasted, and now that the Ministry dogs have been _~~paid~~_ called off I am at last able to put into motion plans for your return.

Given the splendid larks that were had last time we “played a gig” (am thinking codes might be helpful, thoughts??) I was of a mind to raise the quality of our endeavours. Let them know that we mean business. And we will be taking care of it. Every day. Thus:

  * Viscera. A literal painting of the town red, if you will.
  * Unending wave of violence. Perhaps go so far as to actually set fire to the rain? Imagine you might know a spell for that so will leave in your hands.
  * Utter fucking mayhem. Let you really get your freak on.
  * Death. Because Dumbledore can dick about all he likes claiming that “Love Don’t Cost a Thing” but, you know. Murder is also v cost effective.



Anyway, my Lord, _so_ looking forward to your return. Pick me up some Barolo, if you can. My wife has exquisite taste and will only deign to swallow liquids of the finest quality.

Yours ever,

LM

 

* * *

 

My LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD,

Word has reached me of your imminent return, my Lord, and I quake, I howl, I BUUUUUUURNed down two muggle villages in my excitement.

My thighs are atremble, my loins are aquiver, I am ready to stab and and dissemble and SLITHER INTO YOUR ARMS MY LORD SEE I HAVEN’T GIVEN UP THE POETRY NO MATTER WHAT ROWLE SAYS THAT INSUFFERABLE TOSSPOT.

I sent one of his poems to a filthy muggle literary review, my Lord, did I tell you? And their rejection letter was most touching. I cut it up into incy wincey pieces and gave him incy wincey paper cuts betwixt his little toesies and then made him eat the dirty muggle paper it was printed on. He was most put out. The toes I enclose, for I did not make him eat those.

HA! POETRY!!

Lucius says he has big plans, my Lord, for your glorious return. Twists for the twisted, he says, and chaos for the cunts. In any case, I’ve got high hopes for havoc and have bought a new dress. I’m sure you’ll like it. It leaves very little to the imagination, even one as despotic as yours.

Can’t wait to see you, but until then I remain, tits akimbo, legs aflair,

B XXXXXXX

 

* * *

 

Dear Mr Lord Voldemort,

Celestina Warbeck thanks you for your kind letter and the offer to join your band, “The Death Eaters” on your 1979 “grand reunion tour” but regrets that she must politely decline owing to prior commitments.

As a token of Ms Warbeck’s gratitude for your many years of committed fandom, please find enclosed a signed, limited-edition copy of her latest single, “Phoenix Tears (Won’t Heal My Broken Heart)”.

Kindest regards,

Amelia Burbage  
Artist Management, WWN Recordings

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

How do you feel, Lucius? Pray tell, my colorless prince, are you in good health? Alas, my transcendent pal, my spirited accomplice in irreparable mischance, I fear the worst; so tell me, Lucius, O Worthy Pursuer of Dastardly Exploits, have you bumped your magnificently bloodless head? Has an episode of impetuousness diminished your capacity for thought? Have you suffered some kind of HORRIFYING and DEBILITATING AILMENT, Lucius, or have you perhaps encountered a MERCILESS CURSE? Because I would hate to think that you would embark upon this, your most recent of Encumbering Snarkical Ventures, simply because your humors were imbalanced; or worse, because you have foolishly come to doubt my willingness to project you directly into the sun. 

Perhaps I heaped praise upon you too indulgently in my last communication; it seems that you suspect I no longer possess the stomach to wear you like a hat, which I regret to have to comment is an ill-advised assertion, and wholly incorrect.

I WILL FUCK YOU UP, LUCIUS, I WILL FUCK YOU UP ENTIRELY.

Where was I? Ah, yes, you were volunteering a house elf for my services. I have been very busy, you cocking swine (in CAVES, and DARK ONES, and certainly not in Tuscany though do not ask questions) and now require a procurement of the elfin variety for no reason whatsoever, DO NOT BOTHER ME WITH YOUR CURIOSITIES. 

I will also need you to hold onto something for me; it is definitely NOT A DIARY, and certainly not mine, but it is of UTMOST IMPORTANCE that you keep it safe but DO NOT READ IT or touch it or breathe excessively in its presence but I assure you it is A MATTER OF LIFE not death, never death, but it is a v casual favor Lucius AND YOU MUST NOT DISAPPOINT but it is only a teensy thing that you should have no trouble with whatsoever BUT THAT IF YOU DO, I ASSURE YOU, WILL UNDOUBTEDLY RESULT IN prolonged and unapologetic MAIMING and do not let Bella know it exists or I swear to you, upon NOT ONLY my corporal flesh BUT ALSO the many (not too many, the normal amount) shards of my impregnable soul, that I will FEAST UPON YOUR REMAINS, DELIGHTING IN YOUR ROTTEN CORPSE. 

Also yes to the agenda sounds sublime xx

LV

 

* * *

 

Bella,

How is it that you seem to unfailingly collect news of my comings and goings (and comings, and further comings)? Salazar forbid the cunting pestilants at the Ministry ever manage to get their grimy claws on the coiled insatiability that is your wildly manic head; you’re like a sniffer dog for immortal cockery, erecting forth, unfettered.

Hm, did I say immortal? Common phrase. DON’T READ INTO IT it is fine.

As ever, Bellatrix, my toe jar overfloweth and thus I have had to pass them onto Wormtail, who turned a delightful shade of chartreuse upon their dispensation (that I wish to somehow memorialize though that is neither here not there). Tell me, Bella, in your eminent lunacy, do you predict Wormtail to be of use? I find I often wander into recurring episodes of reverie in which I pop him like a balloon, or else slice firmly between his ligaments; perhaps it is because he seems so fantastically fragile, as if one good smoosh would utterly do him in - or is it his face? Is there something fundamentally displeasing about his … face? The arrangement of it? The way he continues to … exist? Shamelessly??

It irks me. Lord Voldemort is irked.

Sigh, ALAS, perhaps it has simply been too long since I have seen you, my grisly Venus; it appears your penchant for destruction has rather infected my normally subdued sensibilities. We shall have to arrange a meeting between your Lord and your new dress; not with Lucius, of course; do not speak to him. He’s v busy doing nothing important with nothing of mine in his care I ASSURE YOU.

Oh look at the time, onwards -

LV

 

* * *

 

Amycus,

Thoughts on chartreuse? Recently v inspired. Outstanding mask work, by the way. Nothing tickles Lord Voldemort more than savagery with taste.

LV

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (drsallysparrow)

My Lord,

Oft have you commented on my waxen complexion, my Lord, and perhaps you are correct, for I, much like the ill-fated Icarus, seem to have flown rather too close to the sun as of late, and I fear that I may be destined to be melted into a sorry mess.

I suppose, really, it is the great tragedy of a life such as my own - of a commitment to a cause that is larger than I, myself, could ever aspire to be. You see, I had thought to be the most favoured of your servants, but I know now that I was a fool. 

For how could I be your most loyal, the most dearly beloved of your retinue, when you have such simpering pipsqueaks as young cousin Regulus, and eminent greasepot Severus Snape, to do your bidding and succumb to your every merciless whim?

“I need a house elf,” you write, and rather than wait the FIVE MINUTES it might have taken me to decide which of my snivelling slaves would be best-suited to whatever task you had to assign to them WHAT DID YOU DO but took that pathetic creature’s Kreacher off to do whatever it was. 

AND NOW REGULUS HAS OFF AND FUCKED, HASN’T HE, AND WHO DO YOU THINK IS GETTING IT IN THE NECK FROM NOT ONLY HIS DARLING WIFE BUT ALSO HER FUCKING NUT-JOB OF A SISTER?

Your chosen librarian, that’s who. Any other books that you’d like me to store away, my Lord? Any diadems to be disguised? Lockets to be locked away perhaps? Never let it be said that I don’t pay attention to your comings and goings, though lowly as I am I can’t pretend to have the faintest idea of the importance of anything and therefore fear not - I remain perfectly oblivious to your incomprehensible mysteries.

Anyway, it may interest you to know that old Vablatsky has finally ‘foreseen’ her retirement this year and so Dumbledore’s interviewing for a new Divination Professor. I don’t think any of your army of useless fucks is qualified to even _pretend_ to have a modicum of the Sight, but do you want me to dispatch one of them to report back on the recruitment anyway. Eyes everywhere, even if none of them are third ones.

Your servant, prostrate as ever,

LM

 

* * *

 

MY LOOOOOOOOOOORD,

Like, I know you wouldn’t entrust important shit to anyone who you didn’t entirely tip top 100% trust with your life (or death, or whatever it is you want to call it but then again as I always say during your little postcoital rants I’M NOT LISTENING) but it does strike me that Lucius has been oddly furtive of late and has banned what he calls ‘unsolicited entry’ to his library.

I only remark, my Lord, because it strikes me that he is behaving like he has SOMETHING TO HIDE.

SOME _THING._

And I recall you saying, when you entrusted your dearest, darlingest, dangerousest and devilishest Bellakins with someTHING to hide away in her vault (and you know VERY WELL my Lord that for once I am not speaking in innuendo) that you told me that I am the ONLY ONE YOU TRUST to have the keeping of something so very precious.

YOU CAN’T BUILD A SOLID RELATIONSHIP ON LIES, MY LORD. GOOD PARTNERSHIPS REQUIRE HONESTY. I read it in Witch Weekly, you know. YOU WOULD DO WELL TO HEED THEIR ADVICE.

Ever and longingly and HONESTLY and DEVOTEDLY yours,

B xxxxxx

 

* * *

 

Tom,

You’ve got to stop playing them off against one another. Bella threw a bottle of red wine at Lucius yesterday and it hit one of the peacocks. I thought the bird made enough of a racket but you would not believe the level of screaming from the other two. 

Anyway, enough of my continued state of domestic bliss. You know, Amycus was kind enough to deliver a pair of chartreuse silk sandals yesterday. Quite a heel they’ve got, and they do look wonderful on.

Sort out this mess, and I might even let you see.

N

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (olivieblake)

Lucius,

Oh BLESS THIS DAY, Lucius, upon which you have FINALLY come to know the truth as I have always spoken it; that indeed, you are the most pallid of fools. The bitter joy of knowing you have finally come to grips with your BREATHTAKING INADEQUACY has caused me such pure, unfiltered delight that it may very well swallow me whole, and dilute me to naught but a shadow of my Murderous Brilliance  (though we would then of course be equals in such realms; I trust that in that case you would be fine company, were I to ever to diminish to a fraction of myself.  A _seventh_ of myself, perhaps? Just spitballing there, of course. No reason NEVERMIND I said nothing, carry on—)

Where was I? Ah yes, joy. CONSUMMATE PLEASURE, of such GRUESOME FINERY that even your Lord’s most elatio—

Ah, nearly got me again; you know how staggeringly poetic I become when relating your incompetency. A blessing and a curse, as they say.  WHERE WAS I?  House elves— sniveling—greasepots? Oh yes, I remember. Oh, have you not found Regulus? Is he missing? Give me a moment to collect myself, Lucius, so that I may relay to you my deepest sympathi—

AHA! YOUR WHIMSICAL LORD HAS TRICKED YOU ONCE MORE, LUCIUS, for indubitably I CARE NOT.  Regulus Schmegulus, I say. That’s my official stance on the matter. No, wait—unprofessional. When addressing my reaction try to relay something more along the lines of sympathy. For example, try to use the words ‘care’ and ‘concern’ and ‘legitimately has feelings on the matter’ and avoid phrases like ‘cannot summon a cunting fuck’ in favor of ‘laments such a TRAGIC LOSS’—and of course if you can sneak in ‘is TOTALLY INNOCENT IN ALL THINGS’ I think that would be a fine response.

Do be very careful with that book, Lucius; you mustn’t bungle it with your usual flagrant idiocy. Admittedly, those were some decently thoughtful suggestions for other items IF I OWNED SUCH OSTENTATIOUS THINGS but I am not a stupid bird Lucius I am not merely collecting shiny items for my capricious whims AND EVEN IF I WERE which I’m not BUT IF I WERE, I would have already hidden them somewhere DEFINITELY NOT IN ALBANIA and certainly not in a cave, or a shack. Not any sort of shack. I take a firm anti-shack stance, and I presume it no great surprise that I would resent you for presuming otherwise.

My goodness Lucius you do go on at length, don’t you? I’m quite bored already and if Lord Voldemort the CONQUEROR OF DEATH can fail to be entertained by his own majesty, then humanity has lost all hope. Just - I don’t know, send Severus for the Divination job. He’s got eccentric hair, right? And, you know. A requisite oddness? He’ll fit right in at that wretched school. IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME but it is wretched ENTIRELY WRETCHED and someday I shall burn it to the ground.

LV

* * *

 

Bellatrix,

If you are going to play host to one of your merciless tantrums, please proceed to do the following:

  * succumb to your madness
  * encroach your lunacy upon your house until all living things within it have shriveled in agony
  * pay an unsolicited visit to Lucius; upon arrival, please see step above
  * keep Lucius occupied for approximately forty-five minutes—
  * —NO, AN HOUR. A FULL HOUR.
  * should he maintain any visible will to live, promptly and brutally rob him of it
  * do all of this while leaving his library alone for NO REASON don't ask questions
  * it's fine everything's fine
  * also, be sure to tell anyone who asks that I advised you sagely to keep your radiantly demented wits about you and behave
  * (which of course you shouldn't; again, please see above)
  * submit to no one. admit to nothing
  * burn this letter
  * BURN LUCIUS' HOUSE no, wait—not his library, don't burn that
  * on second thought maybe don't burn anything
  * MINUS THIS LETTER definitely burn this
  * not the owl though, I need the owl. I hate to have to specify but as you know, better safe than owl-less



LV

p.s.IF  you manage to find Regulus, could you do me the eentsiest little favor and FLAY HIM WITHOUT MERCY until he is quite literally begging for DEATH UPON his most knobbly of knees, at which point I BEG YOU BELLATRIX indulge him, INDULGE HIM TO THE DEPTHS OF YOUR CREATIVITY, and then please if it’s not too much trouble do go ahead and do away with whatever's left. Perhaps scatter him along the banks of the Thames, blowing the remains of his mortal soul into the dusky breeze and inviting the sweet bosom of this resplendent Earth to SWALLOW HIM WHOLE, bidding him home from whence he came? No unnecessary inconvenience of course, whatever you can manage given time constraints, resources, flaying materials, etc. Thanks in advance xx

* * *

 

N,

Games? And here I thought you liked my games. 

Perhaps next time your house finds itself in crisis, you and your shoes might consider paying me a visit. I'd hate for you to muddy them up with familial squabbles.

Yours—T.

 


End file.
